


Against the Current

by kams_log



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Coping, Curses, Dean-Centric, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Merman Abilities, Merman Dean, Multi, No Incest, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/kams_log
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunt went wrong for Dean Winchester when he was only ten years old. The result of it cursed him to live half his life as a merman, and the other half human. His secret is well kept to only the people the Winchesters call family, but there are drawbacks.</p>
<p>John and Sam protect him, and Dean is smart enough to fend for himself. But living as a hunter can be difficult, and with the angels brewing up the Apocalypse and the entire world going to shit in a hand basket, sometimes it's actually useful to be part merman.</p>
<p>[This is a world where everything that happened in Supernatural is still canon, aside from the one tiny fact Dean is part merman.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to cains-mane.tumblr.com for beta-ing this story for me and also helping me jump start the idea.
> 
> Like the summary says, this fic is centered in the Canon Supernatural Universe, just with one change: imagine if Dean was part merman the entire time.
> 
> This fic will include a lot of canon moments from the show as well as other side stories that would happen if Dean had been, in fact, a merman.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

As most things happened in their lives, it started with a hunt gone wrong. Dean was ten years old when it happened. It wasn’t his first hunt, but it was certainly the most significant. What he remembered most was that it happened in late December, when the snow was drifting through the air like shredded paper trails. It was just Dean and John, rumbling down the highway toward the lake, the home of the latest monster John had been tracking.

Sam wasn’t there. For that, Dean was grateful. His little brother was six now, still asking questions every day about why they moved so often, what dad was _really_ doing for his job. Dean still refused to tell the truth. How could he? Dean himself was still a kid, far too aware of it for his own good, and desperate to keep Sam safe from the nightmares Dean was already facing alongside their father.

That’s why Sam was staying with a friend, safe and out of the way. It was the only way to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

“Remember son,” John’s voice thundered, low and deep. “We gotta’ wait till the moon is in the center of the sky.”

Dean glanced out the windows, staring at the fleets of snowflakes flying past outside.

“How are we gonna’ know?” Dean asked.

He looked to his father and frowned. John was nodding, face drawn as though he’d already had this conversation with himself before.

“We’ll know.”

That was the end of it.

The snow only got heavier the further they drove. Within the hour the Impala was brought to a stop and parked, John reaching into the back seat for the weapons filled duffle. Dean watched carefully as John pulled out a long silver blade and handed Dean one of his own.

“That’s only for your protection,” John reminded sternly. “Don’t get close. No matter what, Dean. Do you remember your job?”

Dean nodded seriously and accepted the large flashlight from John’s hand.

“Keep it over the ice,” Dean replied. “Don’t let it get on the land.”

“No,” John shook his head. “That’s my job. Do as much as you can to keep the spotlight on the ice. It’s sensitive to light, so that’ll keep it occupied while I take it out.”

“It’s gotta’ go under the water, right?” Dean asked. They’d already gone over this a hundred times, but Dean was always careful. He didn’t want to disappoint John, or worse, get himself or his dad hurt. Both would bring hell to pay.

“I’ll take care of that too,” John nodded. “Stay off the ice Dean. Keep the light on target, and don’t do anything you absolutely don’t have to. Understood?”

Dean nodded and glanced out the windows one last time. It looked like a blizzard out there. He double checked his coat’s zippers and buttons before securing his things one last time.

“I’m ready.”

“Good. Let’s get to work.”

Dean followed John out of the car and watched in awe at the way the snow swallowed up his father’s feet and ankles. Dean was not as fortunate, finding the snow snatching his body almost to his knees. He glanced back at the Impala and held back a sigh. As soon as they were safe and this monster was taken care of, he would be begging John to get their baby buffed and shined again, the way she should be.

“Dean!” John snapped him out of his daydream. “The light.”

Dean nodded and found cover by the trees. He and John had already been to the lake before the snowstorm, scouting the area and making sure they knew the layout before walking into the attack. He buried himself beneath a pile of bushes and turned on the light, spotlighting the blanket of ice in front of him, layered further by the ever increasing snow. Dean blinked the flakes from his eyes and wiggled the flashlight, making sure it was clear and noticeable against the frozen water.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. There was too much snow flying in his face. It was going to buffet everything, and his light was going to reflect off the thousands of flakes flying in every direction. It wasn’t a good plan.

He could barely spot John’s shadow in the darkness. He was moving slowly to his own cover, making sure that only Dean would see him.

It didn’t matter if the monster saw him. The goal was to keep the monster in the water for the full moon, it’s ultimate vulnerability.

Again, this was a terrible plan.

Dean heard the creature before he saw it. It was like a dull roar increasing in volume the longer it went on. Soon, it was the only sound Dean could hear. It was louder than the wind slapping against his ears, sharper than the frozen snow cutting against his face. He winced and held his ground, keeping his light on the ice.

That was when it happened.

All at once, the snow stopped falling. Dean stared, wide eyed as the creature entered the beam of light from Dean’s flashlight. It stared at him from across the ice, it’s long teeth hissing and tongue lapping against the corners of its mouth. It had tentacles where its feet should have been, and its hair was long and covered in green weeds. Its eyes were sharp and grey, ominously clear in the dead of night.

What was also clear was John’s silver knife plunging toward the creature’s back.

Dean held in a gasp as he watched, eyes wide and terrified when the creature stepped away and slammed its clawlike fist into his father’s gut. John rolled away from the creature’s hit and clutched his blade tight against his side. Dean waved his light wildly, soon capturing the monster’s attention once more as it travelled over the ice once more, away from John and the land.

Dean watched as his father went to attack the creature once more. The goal was to wound it, then push it under the water in time for the moon reaching the center of the sky. The lore was unspecific. The most they knew, was that either the moon would pierce the monster’s wounds and kill it, or once the moon was clear they would have to deliver the death blow by silver once more.

Either way, they needed the monster under the ice. Now.

Dean glanced up at the sky once John threw the blade through the monster’s shoulder. It screamed, but Dean’s eyes were on the clouds. They were clearing.

His lips parted in awe. Monsters were terrifying, but sometimes, the supernatural was oddly… beautiful. His father would never agree, and Dean would never dare say it aloud, but Dean still noticed.

For instance, the moon was clear and full. Stars filtered the inky darkness around it, causing an odd halo glow to cover the sky over their heads. It was time.

“Dean!” John roared. Dean almost dropped the light as he quickly brought his attention back to the snow covered earth. During his time staring at the sky, the monster had knocked John back to the land, and it was coming straight for Dean and the source of the light… on land.

Dean’s eyes widened, quickly going over every available option.

He could leave the flashlight and get to safety, but the monster would be on the land and would reach it’s ultimate strength, able to transform into anything it deemed fit.

That was an unacceptable option. The monster was killing people, and it needed to be stopped.

The only other available options were to throw the light out onto the ice, risk losing the light to the water entirely, or…

Dean bit his lip. He didn’t have time.

He jumped to his feet and ran out from the bushes. John was screaming at him, but this time, he didn’t have time to listen. He needed to get away from the monster. The only way to protect people, and his dad, was keep the monster on the ice. He had to.

Dean rushed out onto the ice and waved his light wildly. “Over here!” He hollered, watching in terror as the monster stared at him and slowly stalked his way. In the corner of his eye, Dean could see John rushing toward them, knife at the ready.

He didn’t make it in time. The monster lunged out of John’s way and latched its claws around Dean’s arms, throwing them both into the ice.

Dean heard the ice snap beneath his back, pain flaring down his spine before the surface gave way and ice water swallowed him and the monster whole.

Before, Dean had never thought about water. He knew it could be just as dangerous as it could be fun and refreshing. But never in his life had he considered water to be _painful_.

It was like Dean’s entire body froze. His limbs locked in place, shocking all of his senses at once until he was disoriented and petrified.

Just through the rush of water over his face, he could see the light of the moon, forcing its way through the liquid and lighting it in a white glow.

Dean didn’t know if the moon was in the center of the sky or not. But it was visible, and the monster was in the water. Not only that, but Dean was still holding his silver blade.

He did what John had trained him to do.

Dean slammed his blade forward and watched it pierce the creature’s chest. It screamed over his face, bubbles erupting everywhere as its blood flooded into the water and over Dean’s body.

Dean was losing consciousness. He could feel it seeping into the depths of his bones. But there was more than that. There was something else leaking in. He looked down, vision going in and out as he saw the blood of the creature turn white under the light of the moon, almost glowing all by itself as it spread over Dean’s body, latching to his skin and covering every inch of him.

He wanted to scream, feeling it sink into his pores and into his bloodstream. This wasn’t right. He knew that. Something had gone wrong, and it was more than just Dean disobeying orders because he had to. There had to have been something they missed, because John hadn’t warned Dean about _any_ of this.

Dean’s heart hammered in his chest, the sound of it heavy in his ears as the monster slid off of Dean and sunk completely to the bottom.

But Dean didn’t sink. He was frozen in the middle of the water, the blood of the creature white and itching at his skin. It _burned_.

Dean’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. His head pounded and his limbs jerked at his sides. He could feel his body spasming, legs cramping, but he couldn’t hold onto consciousness long enough to care.

The last thing he was aware of was the light going out over his head and two hands pulling him out of the water into a snowstorm.

…

When he regained consciousness, he was in the backseat of the Impala. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling, then the windows, which suspiciously lacked any sign of snow passing or catching in the corners of the glass. He tried to move his legs to sit up, get a glance outside and see where they were, but instead he heard a loud _thump_ hit the floor of the car.

Dean glanced down. His legs and waist were wrapped tightly by a coarse, thick blanket. He tried to move his arms to push it away, but his body felt numb and weighted. His head was foggy and unclear. He dropped his head back against the seat and groaned, happily pushing his face back into the leather for comfort.

“Dean?”

He raised his head slowly at the sound of his father’s voice. It was worried, heavy with concern. At first, Dean wasn’t sure why his father would be worried. Then, it came back to him. The creature and the ice, falling into the water, ganking the monster and the light…

He shivered and blinked, trying to regain focus. His vision was dark and blurry. He could barely make out the shape of his father sitting at the wheel of the car, his head continually glancing back to check on his son.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but stopped short when his chest heaved and coughing erupted from his lungs.

“Shit,” John barked. The engine beneath them revved as John increased the speed. “Just hold on there, son. We’re going to Bobby’s. He’ll sort this out, you’re gonna’ be okay Dean.”

Dean could only nod as he wrapped his tingling arms tight around his chest, now painfully aware that he was shirtless. John must have taken off his clothes to decrease the chances of hypothermia.

But it was strange. He didn’t feel… naked. He would have been able to tell right away, wouldn’t he? He glanced down at the blanket covering his body and slowly grabbed the edges of the material. He lifted it, eyes widening in horror.

Scales covered every inch of his legs and hips. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t covered, and worse, there was some kind of tissue forming between them.

His heart hammered double time as he quickly lowered the blanket and stared at the ceiling. It was all he could do to focus on his rattled breathing and not on whatever the hell was happening to the rest of his body.

…

John and Bobby didn’t get along that well, so it must have been a real emergency. Dean realized this as John threw open the back door of the Impala and screamed at the house.

“Get your ass out here Singer! My son’s hurt!”

Dean felt John’s arms wrap around his body, hoisting his arms and legs and cradling his body to his chest. Dean stared blearily ahead, watching as Bobby’s thick frame hobbled down the front steps and toward the car.

“What’re you doin’ John?” Bobby roared, “What’re you thinkin’ bringin’ your _ten year old son_ on a _hunt_?”

Despite his shouting, Dean still saw Bobby waving them hurriedly for the front door.

“It wasn’t like that,” John growled once they were in the safety of Bobby’s den. Dean blinked at the sofa. He would be more than happy to sleep on that thing, preferably now.

“What’s happened to ‘im?” Bobby grunted, face suddenly in Dean’s own. Dean blinked again slowly. His body felt heavy and his legs still hurt. It felt like they were cramping and he wasn’t sure he could move them at all.

“His legs,” John explained. “We were chasin’ that water spirit you told me about. Had everything under control ‘til Dean jumped out on the ice and went under with the thing. Not really sure what happened after, but it looked like Dean killed it.”

“Goddamnit John.”

Dean was soon dropped on the sofa and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. It caught short in his throat, quickly replaced with vengeful coughs that left him wheezing for air.

“I told ya’ to keep out of the water when it went under. The lore says--”

“I know! I told Dean to stay off the ice no matter what. He disobeyed a direct order--”

“To hell with orders John! He’s a kid! He ain’t gonna’ know better. Now lemme’ see his legs.”

The blanket moved and both men cursed.

“It… It wasn’t that bad earlier.”

“It’s gonna’ get worse,” Bobby warned. “I promise ya’ that.”

“How do we fix it?”

Dean glanced down as the two men argued. The tissue was thicker now, and his legs were pushed close together. The scales were over his waist now. His back and feet itched. His vision wouldn’t focus. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to breathe _normally_ again.

He vaguely heard Bobby cursing, “There won’t _be_ any fixing. Not yet anyway. We gotta’ make sure he survives the transition first.”

“The _what_?”

“Get upstairs and run the bath. Cold water doesn’t matter. Just get the tub as full as you can and I’ll carry Dean up.”

John hesitated for a moment, no doubt wanting to argue further, but a moment later he was gone and Bobby was kneeling next to Dean’s head.

The man’s hand ran through his hair, pushing back the wet strands from his sweaty forehead.

“We’re gonna’ take care of you, boy,” Bobby murmured. “Don’t you worry. We’ll figure it out.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes.

It felt like an eternity before John shouted that the bath was ready, and Dean soon found himself in Bobby’s arms and rushing up the stairs to the restroom. There was only a brief pause to set Dean down and remove the blanket. A moment later, he was submerged in bath water.

It was like a breath of fresh air. Dean gasped, for once not breaking into a coughing fit as his body finally, _finally_ relaxed.

“Shit,” John cursed again, the sound strange and foreign to Dean’s ears as he happily sank lower into the water. “What’s happening to him?”

“It’s part of the… myth,” Bobby muttered. “It didn’t have much lore to back it up, so I just assumed it wasn’t stock worthy.”

“Yeah, you failed to mention my son might turn into a goddamn _fish_ ,” John growled.

Bobby glared at him before glancing back down at Dean, who was quietly watching the two from the water, soaking in the relief.

“He ain’t a fish if the myth’s right. He’s gonna’ be more like a... er, merman.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Dean ignored them. He instead sank completely under the water, humming in pleasure as it washed over his head.

It felt so different from the icy water at the lake. It felt natural and cool, releasing the stress from his body and finally bringing peace to his senses.

He looked at his legs, frowning when he realized the scales didn’t seem to be leaving. If anything, they were hardening over his legs. He couldn’t tell one leg apart from the other any longer. It just looked like… a tail. His feet appeared webbed, almost fin-like.

He felt a sudden stretch in his sides. He gasped, panicking when water entered his mouth. But, it passed right through him. He stared in shock as slits opened in his sides, flexing under the water as the liquid continued to pass through his mouth and body, completely bypassing his lungs.

His neck stretched second, and Dean flinched as his hands quickly shot up to check. Sure enough, slits were open along his neck as well.

_Gills_. He had _gills_.

Dean closed his eyes and counted back from ten. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t _normal_.

He felt a hand grab his shoulder and pull him back out of the water. He heard cursing before he saw John’s panicked face in front of his.

“Dean, are you okay?” He asked. “You were lashing around.”

He shuddered and nodded, eyes wide as he took in John and Bobby’s faces. His vision was sharper now. He could make out each of the strands of John’s hair, the stubble of Bobby’s beard and the torn seams in his coat. He winced and pushed himself back into the water, where it felt better than the frigid air of the room.

“Dean, you need to say something son,” John urged. “Can you speak?”

Dean shuddered and opened his mouth, allowing himself to come out of the water for just a moment. He felt his chest flex with air, his neck tightening and gills closing as he finally found his voice again.

“Yeah,” he grunted, coughing to clear his throat. “I… I think I can.”

“Thank God,” John sighed. He turned to Bobby and asked, “How long will this last?”

“I don’t know,” Bobby replied. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

John’s gaze narrowed at the man before turning back to Dean, cupping his face in his hands as though Dean might disappear again.

“We’ll fix this Dean. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. We’ll fix everything.”

Dean watched as his feet finally disappeared, replaced by fins that made his tail officially complete.

He hoped to God his dad was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you SO much for all your wonderful comments. Really, every single one of them meant the world, and I'm still planning on replying to a few of you! So thank you for your patience and I hope you like Chapter 2!
> 
> Again, special thanks to cains-mane.tumblr.com for being such an excellent beta-reader and friend!

They didn’t fix everything. They didn’t fix  _ anything _ . It was twenty four hours later and they’d learned very little. 

Dean discovered that he could survive outside of the water in his new form, but it made him queasy and after long enough, it made him disoriented to the point John or Bobby were forced to return him to the bath. This lasted until the morning, by which point Dean had soaked in the water long enough that he was finally able to leave the water without fear.

That was when they learned Dean could become a boy again. He managed to dry himself while Bobby and John were cooking breakfast downstairs--the only free time Dean had managed to himself since everything began. 

Once he was dry, he watched in shock as the scales sunk into his body, disappearing into human skin until Dean had two legs again. He was  _ normal _ again.

However, he didn’t feel relieved. He ran for the guest room and immediately found a pair of pants before rushing down the stairs into the kitchen.

“I’m normal,” Dean stated to the men in front of him, both staring wide-eyed in bewilderment. 

John looked excited, daring to hope, like Dean, that this meant it was all over. Bobby contained his composure and hurried Dean to take a seat in the den while he and John ‘talked.’ 

Dean did as he was told, but he strained his ears to listen to everything the adults were saying.

“Did you see that?” John exclaimed. “He’s back to his old self. This is good!”

“That don’t mean nothin’ John,” Bobby growled. “We’ve been goin’ over the lore all night. All of it says this ain’t goin’ away. Not for nothing.”

“That’s bullshit,” John snapped. “There’s a cure for everything.”

“Not for demons and definitely not for this John,” Bobby replied. “We got nothing.”

His voice was dark. Dean shivered and ran his hands over his legs, watching as his toes flexed against the carpet floor. 

He didn’t want to lose his legs again. He wanted to stay  _ normal _ . He wanted to run and do things. He didn’t want to be like those monsters John hunted. He didn’t want to be a  _ thing _ . 

Dean’s thoughts drifted to Sammy. They were going to have to tell him the truth now. He cursed and clenched his fists over his thighs. Sam didn’t deserve to know about the hunting world, and he certainly didn’t need his big brother to be a monster. Dean needed to take care of Sam, protect him, not throw him into this mess headfirst. He needed to be Sam’s big brother. He couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even human anymore. Could he?

He swallowed hard and stared at the door leading to the kitchen. John and Bobby’s voices had dropped to hushed whispers and the occasional snapped curse. 

Dean looked down at the floor and crossed his ankles. He hoped they were wrong. There had to be a cure. If there wasn’t, what would happen to him? What would John do?

He bit his lip as footsteps trailed his way. Soon, John and Bobby were standing in front of him. Their postures were stiff and their faces appeared haunted and pale. Their eyes were red rimmed from the lack of sleep, and Dean desperately wished he hadn’t been at fault for it.

“Dean,” John sighed, the tone he used before announcing they were moving again or that there was still more work to be done. The voice of bad news approaching. Dean’s jaw tightened. He braced himself. “The fact is, we don’t got enough information to cure you right now. The best we can figure is that you’re gonna… transform, again.”

“How many times?” Dean asked, voice wavering against his will. 

John looked at Bobby. The older man shrugged and tossed his hands in his pockets. “At least once a day, as far as we know. But it’d also be best to stick away from water or any chance of getting wet. Might trigger the changes sooner than you’d like.”

Dean’s eyes burned with unshed tears. He wasn’t going to cry. If he couldn’t handle this, he couldn’t handle anything.

He bit his lip again and asked softly, “What… what do we gotta’ do?”

John crossed his arms and looked at Dean’s feet. “We’ll have to make sure to get motels with baths from now on,” he replied. “We’re gonna’ have to let Sam in on what’s goin’ on as well.”

“No!” Dean shouted, knuckles white against his knees. “Sam can’t know! He’s too young!”

“I know son,” John’s tone was soothing. His father knelt in front of him and placed a hand over his. “God knows I don’t want him involved yet, either. But it’s gonna’ look strange if Sam suddenly looks over and sees his brother’s legs are missing.”

Dean choked and shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” John murmured. “If I could do anything to change it, I would.”

Dean grunted in reply. It wasn’t like his opinion mattered anyway. Of course they’d have to tell Sam. It was common sense, no matter how much Dean resented it.

“Lemme’ tell him,” Dean muttered. “It should be me.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I do,” Dean snapped, roughly pulling his hands away from John’s. “It’s the right thing to do, right?”

“Not sure there’s a right anything in a situation like this,” Bobby rumbled. “But it’s the closest we’ll get to it this time.”

Dean nodded resolutely and climbed to his feet, not lost to the fact he wouldn’t always have them. 

“Then that’s it,” he grumbled. “What else?”

John sighed and ran a hand over his face, taking a moment to glance between Dean and Bobby before replying, “Now, we figure out how to live with this. For now.”

“Okay.”

…

It started snowing again before they left to pick up Sammy. Bobby gave them several thick coats that would help protect Dean from getting wet from the melting snow flakes. Dean felt like a marshmallow as he waddled down the front steps of Bobby’s home, John close behind him with a hand carefully placed between his shoulder blades. 

“Take care of ‘im John,” Bobby called from the door. “If ya’ got any questions, just gimme’ a holler. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks Bobby,” John replied.

Dean frowned up into the snowflakes, flinching each time they touched his face and melted. So far, it looked like little droplets wouldn’t make him ‘change.’ But they still had to be careful. Dean closed his fists in his coat pockets and followed John to the Impala, letting his dad open the door before he hurriedly climbed in. 

John was in a moment later, and soon they were out on the highway and travelling to pick up Sammy.

Dean squirmed in his seat as he took off his coat, no longer necessary in the safety of the Impala. His mind drifted to when it had all started on the lake. He remembered daydreaming about cleaning up the Impala, drenching her in suds and water until she was beautiful and shining.

He wondered if he could still do that anymore.

Dean clasped his hands in his lap and glanced over at his father in the driver’s seat. His gaze was steely and fixed on the ever-stretching road. Dean could see the way John’s fingers squeezed the wheel, his eyes twitching as though he was struggling to focus on the highway. 

Dean suspected John was trying not to look at him.

He chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. John was probably worried about him, and not just because Dean was under some kind of curse. John was probably wondering if Dean was changing into something else. Something  _ other  _ than his son; a monster. 

Dean doubted he would be able to survive if he knew John thought he was a monster to be put down. He wondered if John was just putting up with it, for now. Maybe he was waiting for Dean to deliver the blow to Sam’s childhood, tell him the truth so John wouldn’t have to.

He could do that. One last thing for his family.

“Are you going to gank me?” Dean whispered, unable to speak the horror any louder. “After I tell Sammy?”

He’d been expecting silence or a curt response. He hadn’t expected the Impala to suddenly swerve off the road.

Dean shouted in surprise as they hit a snowy bank and came to an abrupt stop. Dean stared at John in shock, but was surprised to see his father’s horrified expression.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” John shouted. Dean flinched and pulled himself deeper into the seat, unprepared for John’s anger. 

“I… I just figured, I’m not  _ normal  _ anymore. We hunt stuff like that, right? Stuff like me? I’m bad now. I’m a monster, right?”

“Goddamnit,” John growled. He ran his hands through his hair before he turned to Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight as he stated calmly, slow, “Dean, there is no way in hell I’m ever gonna’ hurt you. Never. You’re not a monster, you’re my son. That ain’t ever gonna’ change, and I won’t ever let anybody hurt you.”

“But I’m  _ different  _ now!” Dean exclaimed. “What if I turn out like  _ them _ ? What if… what if I hurt people?”

John shook his head and placed his hand behind Dean’s neck, grounding and comforting him as their eyes locked together. “No, you’re not gonna’ hurt people. Bobby assured me about the lore. This curse, or whatever the hell it is, it’s just supposed to change your appearance. It says  _ nothing  _ about making you hurt anybody else. You’re not a monster Dean. You’re different than them, and you’re different from us too. But that doesn’t change who you  _ are _ , my  _ son _ .”

Dean sniffed, wiping at his eyes to hide his tears. But it didn’t matter. John unlocked his seatbelt and pulled Dean into a hug, holding him tight until Dean finally felt his stress and fear die away. 

“It’s gonna’ be okay, Dean. We might not be able to fix it, but we’ll try. And in the meantime? You’re still a Winchester son. You’re family, no matter what.”

Dean nodded into his father’s chest and sighed, sniffing once more before pulling away and smiling weakly. 

“Okay,” he replied. “T-Thanks.”

“It’s the truth son. Now let’s go pick up your brother.”

Dean smiled all the way back.

…

The moment they were through the front doors of Caleb’s home Sam was barrelling forward and flinging himself into Dean’s arms.

“You’re back!” He squealed, eyes bright and doey. “How was the trip?”

Dean forced a smile to his face as John patted Caleb on the shoulder and motioned for the man to follow him out, no doubt informing him about the hunt’s results. Dean would have to do the same in a moment.

He bit his lip and looked down at his little brother. Sam was gonna’ be seven next year. Dean didn’t want to say a single word about the ‘trip.’ He didn’t want to say anything about the hunt either, but his options were limited and his job was clear.

“Um, I gotta’ tell you somethin’ Sam.”

“Okay,” Sam beamed, happily following Dean to the bedrooms. 

Dean looked around when they stepped inside. Sam was quick to jump toward his bed and pull out his things, no doubt having learned something incredible that he was eager to share. Papers covered the floor and the bed, all of them littered with messy scrawls and doodles in corners.

Dean leaned down and picked up one of the pages and smiled at it. It was a picture of their family. Beneath it Sam had written a school report about all of them. It mentioned how they moved a lot, but Dean felt his chest warm at the descriptions Sam had written for his older brother. Funny, smart, annoying but good. 

Some of the words were way too big for a little kid like Sam to be using, but Dean wasn’t surprised in the least. 

“I like this,” Dean said, handing the paper back to Sam.

Sam grinned and nodded. “Me too. Mrs. Turner wanted to know why we moved a lot. I gave her the usual story.”

His little brother raised his eyebrows at Dean, like he already knew Dean’s ‘story’ was crap. It didn’t make Dean feel any better.

Dean licked his lips and shuffled forward until he stood by Sam’s side, dropping onto the bed so they were shoulder to shoulder. 

“Something happened on the trip, Sammy,” Dean said softly. “Um… It wasn’t a convention, like I said it was.”

“I know,” Sam replied, too serious. Dean wanted to laugh. There was something strange about the way Sam could act so grown up, but still carry all his childish pudge that rounded his face and made him look like a toddler. It was only a matter of time before he outgrew all that. He’d be a force to be reckoned with when he was grown up. “I heard uncle Caleb and dad talking before you both left. It didn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t,” Dean agreed. “Um. You know how dad’s always worried about us? How he leaves a gun whenever he goes out somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Sam shrugged, idly straightening out the papers in front of them. “Says there’s bad guys out there. We gotta’ be careful.”

Dean nodded. “Right,” he murmured. “But it’s not just bad guys, Sammy.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam’s eyes were wide and curious. His little brother inched closer to him, and Dean could see the hope in his gaze, written in all the lines against his face. He knew Dean was going to confess. He knew he was getting the truth, finally, after years of asking.

Dean hated it.

“There are things out there Sammy. Bad things. Monsters.”

Sam’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, but he didn’t ask. He waited, and Dean continued slowly. 

“Real monsters, like vampires, ghosts, werewolves. They’re all real Sammy. But it’s okay, because dad’s one of the good guys. He fights monsters and saves people. He’s a hero.”

Sam’s eyes widened again. They didn’t look curious. They looked worried. Sam opened his mouth slowly, lips closing and parting before he finally asked, “T-That was… where you were? What… you were doing?”

Dean winced and nodded.

“Yeah Sammy. But it’s okay, we knew what we were doing. Something just went wrong this time. That’s all.”

“That’s not okay Dean!” Sam cried suddenly, jumping off the bed. He waved his arms and shouted, “What happened? What’s wrong? You look like something awful happened, De’.” 

Dean nodded slowly and looked at the floor.

“I, uh, I messed up. The monster didn’t get me cause I got it first. It’s just… It laid a spell on me or something, right before we ganked it.”

“A spell?” Sam inched closer, hesitant. “How… how bad De’?”

Dean swallowed and shrugged. “Not sure. Dad says it’s okay. But I sort of turn into this… fish, thing. Uncle Bobby says it’s gonna’ happen every day, and especially if I get wet.”

Sam shuffled on his feet. He looked upset, and Dean didn’t blame him. Sam sniffed and wiped his nose before he asked, “Wet? Why that?”

“The monster was a water spirit,” Dean explained. “When I get wet the effect is triggered. At least, that’s what Bobby says.”

“So Uncle Bobby knows?”

“Yeah, he looked up a lot of lore and stuff--”

“No, I mean hunting.”

Dean flinched and nodded once more. “Yeah. He knows too.”

Sam huffed and shuffled back toward the bed, finally sitting down beside him again. Silence lingered between them until Sam said, “So what… you’re like King Triton or something?”

Dean snorted and shook his head, unable to hide his smile. “Nah, not like King Triton. I’d need a cool trident for that.”

“Then, Ariel?”

“Oh God no. I ain’t a friggin’ princess Sam!”

“Princess fish!” Sam exclaimed, but then his smile faltered. Dean frowned and waited.

“So… will I get to see it then? The ‘fish-thing’ you turn into?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I had to tell you. It’s gonna’ be kind of common till dad and Bobby figure out how to fix it.”

“Cause it’s a spell, right? So it’s gonna’ be okay?”

Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, pulling him tight against his side. Sam went willingly and smiled up at him, lips twitching hopefully.

“Yeah. It should all be okay. I’m still your brother.”

Sam nodded in understanding and hugged Dean back. “Good. As long as you’re okay.”

“Yeah.” With that, the silence returned, but this time in peace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you all enjoyed the Holidays! I've got the next chapter ready for you, and another one on the back burner ;) I promise you're going to like them.
> 
> As usual, special thanks to the ever amazing cains-mane who beta's this story for me :) She's absolutely incredible and my stories wouldn't be nearly as good without her feedback~
> 
> Also, on a side note: I would like to re-emphasize that this story is NOT wincest, nor does it contain *any* incest. This will be a Destiel fic :) 
> 
> I wanted to make this point because there is a moment coming up in this chapter that could be misinterpreted. So again, this story does not contain incest. Thank you!

The first few months were the hardest. Dean felt like a stranger in his own skin, adapting to half a life of scales, fins, and gills. For the first month John didn’t take any hunts, choosing to stay home and make sure he was there for support. 

Sam loved the changes. He was glued to Dean’s side during the first weeks, holding his hand sometimes when Dean was too anxious to push his little brother away. 

His changes were creepy, disturbing. They weren’t…  _ interesting _ , like Sam kept making them out to be. Sam actually  _ enjoyed  _ watching Dean’s scales appear, his legs vanishing and transforming into a damn  _ tail _ . 

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked once, softly, as though he didn’t want to spook his older brother. Good luck. Sam wasn’t the one who just turned into half a fish.

Dean shrugged and splashed his fins in the bath water, casting a glance out the door to the rest of the motel room where John was bent over half a dozen lore books. 

“Not really,” he replied. “It’s just… there.”

Sam sighed and crossed his arms over the edge of the tub, hooking his chin over the side so he could admire Dean’s scales. 

“I’d like a tail,” Sam hummed, eyes dreamy and bright. 

Dean shuddered. “No you don’t,” he snapped. “You definitely don’t.”

Sam blinked and lowered his arms. “Okay Dean.”

His little brother didn’t look like he was agreeing, but Dean let it slide. It was hard enough to live with himself, let alone imagine Sammy cursed too.

After the first month, the changes started to become a normal routine to Dean. They began to feel familiar, strong enough that Dean was able to identify whenever he was about to transform again. 

It often started as a tingling sensation, like he was losing feeling in his toes and his legs. That was the first sign, so Dean learned how to keep his blood circulation going strong so he didn’t confuse the signals. The sensation eventually grew to queasiness, although that stage passed rapidly until Dean’s skin began to itch from his hips to his ankles. That was usually when he started shedding clothes and running for the nearest area of water, hopefully the bathtub from their motel room. 

After that, it was just a matter of stretching. Dean got good at that part. He flexed his toes, trying not to watch as they became webbed and fin-like as his legs melded together and scales grew across his skin. 

The gills were always the tricky part, but they became as familiar and routine as everything else. Dean would stretch his arms up as they opened at his sides, tilting his head back so his neck had room to shift and breathe. 

He learned he couldn’t talk underwater. Not a sound would ever escape him unless his head and neck weren’t submerged. John and Bobby theorized that the gills around his neck bypassed his human lungs and vocal system, only allowing him to speak and breathe oxygen when the gills were closed. The ones at his sides helped the rest of his body to breathe and function, or something like that. Dean wasn’t sure of all fish talk. He just wanted them to cure him.

But they didn’t. The longer time stretched, the more hopeless it seemed. Dean turned eleven and Sam turned seven, and they were no closer to a cure than when they started. 

What they did learn, however, was that Dean hadn’t just earned a tail for his mistakes in December. He’d gained other abilities as well.

It started with a fight between Dean and John. Dean didn’t mean to get that upset, but he was and he couldn’t understand how there was so little lore to make Dean become a human again, permanently. 

The fighting eventually turned into yelling, and before Dean knew it, he felt an unexpected stretch in his neck as scales suddenly ran up his back and around his neck. Then, he hiccuped bubbles. 

John stopped dead in his words, eyes wide as Dean slammed a hand over his mouth. It didn’t help. He couldn’t stop the hiccups, and bubbles slipped past his fingers and his palms until bubbles started filling the room everywhere. 

He could feel the familiar tingling in his toes and legs, and that’s how Dean learned that his emotions could trigger the transformation. He also learned he could summon water.

Sam never stood a chance after that, as Dean quickly took hold of his new talent to spit water at his little brother like a water gun whenever Sammy was purposefully annoying. 

Unfortunately, Sam invested in a water gun after that. Dean spent more time in the bathtub for the following week. Damn water war.

When Dean was twelve he learned he had Siren powers. It was an accident, and Dean still wasn’t sure how he did it. He only realized his mistake when he had to run all the way home, his entire class chasing him and professing their love for him the entire way back. It was Sam who made the connection between Dean’s humming and strangers looking. Dean stopped humming after that, if he could help it.

It was also that year that he figured out he could teleport. It wasn’t a fun trick to learn. Dean was on a hunt with John, Sam helping research with Bobby where it was safe. 

The hunt was nowhere near any lakes or rivers, so they’d thought they’d been safe enough. They didn’t expect the victim’s basement to be flooded, or for the monster to still be in the house with them while they’d been investigating. 

All Dean could remember was the monster hitting him in the back and throwing him into the water. Later, Bobby would tell him it was probably due to the shock and suddenness of the situation that caused Dean’s reserve power to activate. What they knew for certain was that Dean had gone into the water, transformed in less than a second, and reappeared in the neighbor’s kitchen sink, where some poor elderly woman had been washing her dishes. 

Dean didn’t want to talk about it.

In the end, Dean watched John scribble in a new item to Dean’s growing list of abilities.  _ Water teleportation _ . 

Years passed of this. Dean spent most of his days as a human, walking around with his family, living ordinary life as best as he could while hunting the things that went bump in the night. 

Eventually Sam started joining them for hunts, and Dean found himself a companion in the long hours of the nights he spent in his second form. Around the time he was fourteen and heavy into his growth spurt, Sam was the one to recommend upgrading from the bathtub to a self-made tank. Now they travelled with tank materials hidden in the Impala’s trunk, ready to be set up each night for Dean to sleep and rest in as his body rejuvenated and absorbed the water it needed.

As much as Dean wanted Sam to get the sleep he needed, he selfishly loved his little brother being closeby through the night. The tank was always set up close to the bathroom so that transferring water to the tank was easy, but it was also close to Sam’s bed. Sam taught Dean sign language late into the night. It made communication easier in Dean’s merman form. 

John learned sign language too. He recognized it’s usefulness, as well as the fact it was selfish to keep asking Dean to come out of the water, even partially, just to get information or feedback when Dean needed to be under the water more than out of it. 

It also increased their communication in the field, so none of them regretted the hours of training and learning. Dean especially liked being able to talk to Sam at night, knowing that their words would only be ‘heard’ by each other when John was sleeping. It was relaxing and safe. Dean treasured their nightly discussions.

Dean was sixteen when he learned about his greatest gift. They were hunting a werewolf in Louisiana, the air warm and humid in the summer heat. Dean was quick to wipe his sweat away at every opportunity, not eager to transform so early into the hunt. 

There was a swamp nearby that Dean didn’t want to think about, and John and Sam had their guns at the ready as they sweat through their clothes without restraint or worry. 

Lucky bastards, Dean thought bitterly as he wiped his sweat from his neck for the hundredth time. 

They had a good idea of where the werewolf was located. It seemed to have a favorite dropping ground where it brought its victims. They’d found bones half buried in the dirt a mile back, so Dean knew they were getting close. 

He wasn’t wrong. The werewolf revealed itself in minutes. The three Winchesters immediately started shooting, but not before the thing had swiped a bloody paw straight through Sam’s side. 

Dean screamed as John released a single silver bullet into the werewolf’s heart. The monster went down, but Dean was already at Sam’s side. 

His little brother was bleeding bad. John was shouting orders, no doubt about binding up the wound so they could get Sam to safety, but Dean couldn’t hear it. It was like his mind was fading, like he was no longer in control of his own body.

Before he knew it, his hands had latched tight to Sam’s body and dragged his little brother straight for the swamp water.

John was screaming. Dean couldn’t answer. The next thing he knew they were both deep underwater and his mouth was covering his brother’s, pushing as much air as he physically could into his little brother’s lungs. He wasn’t sure what happened next, but light erupted from Sam’s eyes and his brother was suddenly breathing.  _ Underwater _ . 

Dean watched in fascination as light continued to glow and flicker through the murky water, covering Sam’s side until the blood stopped gushing and disappeared altogether. 

Dean would have wept with joy if he hadn’t been underwater, and a merman. Instead he wrapped his little brother in a hug and swam back to the surface. 

“Dean!” John was half out of his clothes, eyes wild and every limb strained in a way that only meant he was about to jump in after them. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Dean shook his head and pushed Sam further up onto the shore, breathing, alive, healed. 

“I-” Dean started, still in shock, “I think I saved him.”

John dropped to his knees and checked Sam’s side. He looked at his son in wonder. 

“I think you did, son.”

Dean smiled in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a quick recap, Dean has an ability somewhat likened to the "Kiss of Life." The kiss between Dean and Sam was *not* incest, but simply Dean using his powers to heal his brother. I hope that helps!
> 
> Also, this fic's primary ship will be Destiel :) So you guys have lots of that to look forward to! (As well as some bisexual teen Dean moments~)
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! Things have been pretty busy and my usual updates kind of landed in the deep end of my to-do list. So after a long wait, here's chapter four! I hope you like it~!
> 
> Next update should be in 1-2 weeks if all goes well :) Enjoy!

It was the beginning of fall when everything seemed to change. The leaves were turning gold and brown, and Dean admired the way they fell and crunched beneath his feet on the pavement. He tossed an apple in his hands and took a bite, willfully ignoring Sam’s endless rant about the safety risks of the fair games they’d just left behind.

“Look, Dad told us we could have some fun Sam,” Dean groaned as he swallowed. “Not sure you got that message.”

“I’m just saying those guys don’t know what they’re doing,” Sam grumbled, kicking up leaves with his boots. 

“And you’re twelve and you can do all their jobs better than them?”

“Maybe I could,” Sam snapped. 

Dean rolled his eyes and took another bite of his apple. 

The walk back to the motel was sunny and cold. Dean was ready to bury himself beneath a dozen blankets and sleep by the time they returned, and Sam was muttering the same sentiment. Both of their plans were brought to a halt, however, when they spotted the Impala in the parking lot.

The brothers exchanged a look.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be gone till tomorrow?” Sam asked. Dean nodded and hurried up the steps to their door.

Sure enough, John was inside. Their father was packing rapidly, gathering all of Sam’s extra books and Dean’s guns. Once he caught sight of them, he nodded and pointed to their bags on the beds. 

“Grab your things,” John grunted. “We’re heading out.”

“Where?” Dean asked.

“Why?” Sam exclaimed. 

Always ‘why’ when it came to Sam, Dean had noticed. Lately his younger brother seemed less and less concerned with the points of the hunt, and more concerned with the point behind them. It had already started a few fights between Sam and John, and Dean wasn’t in the mood for another today.

John, thankfully, seemed to be on the same page.

“We might have a lead on a cure for Dean.”

It was like all the air was sucked from the room. Sam and Dean stared at John, eyes wide and disbelieving. 

It had been six years of this. Dean had started to believe it would never go away, that he’d always be cursed to live half his life as a creature instead of the human he was supposed to be. He’d never considered he might actually be  _ cured _ . Even a possibility, a  _ lead _ , it was something they hadn’t had in years. It had been too long.

Dean shuddered as his lungs expanded, finally taking in air as Sam jumped into action and grabbed his things.

“Where? What’s the lead? What do we need to do?” Sam was talking a mile a minute. Dean was still processing. 

John shoved the last of their things into a duffle and pointed at the tank in the corner of the room.

“Get that taken down. I got word there’s an old hunter up in the Catskills; this guy may have connections to merfolk lore that nobody else has.”

“How is that possible?” Sam asked, already deconstructing the tank. “I thought we checked all the lore there was?”

“It helps if you’ve hunted actual mermaids. My contact says this guy has.”

Dean flinched. 

“Mermaids… hurt people?”

John stopped moving and looked his way, gaze steely and resolved. Dean didn’t feel reassured and shoved his hands deep in his pockets, hiding their trembling. 

“You ain’t a mermaid son,” John replied. “Ain’t a merman either. You’re something in between. It’s just a curse that changes your form. If we can get our hands on some real information about the form you take, we might be able to reverse the transformation and keep you human all the time. You’d be cured, Dean.”

Dean nodded slowly. He could feel his heart pounding heavily in his chest, but he swallowed hard and stuffed his emotions down. Now wasn’t the time to be afraid. Now was the time to act and figure out what to do next.

“Where we going?” Dean coughed, clearing his throat. 

“Some place called Sonny’s Home for Boys. We’ll figure out the rest when we get there.”

Dean nodded as John tossed the duffel, easily catching it and throwing it under his arm. If that was it, then Dean could live with it.

It was time for answers, and Dean felt they were desperately overdue.

…

“He’s  _ dead _ ?” Dean stared, slack jawed, as John slammed the driver side door behind him. John sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. His face was haggard and weighted, visibly stating the sleepless nights that had brought them this far--and apparently, it still wasn’t enough.

“Passed away last year. Car accident of all things. His son runs the Home for Boys now. I got no idea if the lore is even still there.”

“But we can’t just give up,” Sam exclaimed, jumping forward from the backseat. “This guy could have had a cure!”

“I know that Sam,” John snapped. “We gotta’ figure something else out.”

Dean stared out the window. The Home for Boys was just up the hill, sitting in the middle of a plain of green. The house itself was simple but beautiful. An old barn sat just a half mile past it, and even from a distance, Dean could see a handful of boys running between the two structures. 

A sign leading to the house wasn’t far from the car. In plain letters it read, “ _ Sonny’s Home for Boys: making family no matter how different. _ ” 

Dean licked his lips, thoughts brewing quickly. 

“I think I might have an idea,” he murmured. “We wouldn’t even have to break in.”

John and Sam raised their eyebrows. Dean grinned.

…

“...let him rot in jail.”

Dean had to hide his smirk as the deputy read off the charges to Sonny, the son of the man who supposedly had all the answers to merfolk lore. The man himself was interesting. From his expression alone, Dean wasn’t sure if the man wanted to reprimand him or tell the deputy to go ahead and throw him in jail. 

If Sonny didn’t take Dean, then they would simply resort to breaking in. Dean wasn’t in favor of that option. He wanted to find everything himself, without the pressure of being caught or hurting someone who didn’t deserve it. 

If Dean could get a look at the research for himself, everything would be okay. That’s what he told himself.

Sonny didn’t send him to jail. The next thing Dean knew, he was given a room to share and a bed of his own. Sonny pointed at the paper at the base.

“You can write your name there,” Sonny smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, our home is your home now. Make yourself comfortable.” 

Dean nodded silently and picked at the edge of the paper. “I won’t be staying long,” Dean replied, both truthful and for the sake of his cover. “Don’t worry about that.”

Sonny raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Feel free to get comfortable in the meantime. Dinner’s at six. The other boys will be around soon.”

Dean watched Sonny go, waiting until his footsteps were long gone before he glanced down at the paper where his name would go. 

He wondered if he’d even be around that long.

In the end, he was there for nearly two months. In the first week, Dean looked in every single drawer and cabinet he could find. Sonny caught him a number of times, but never got angry about it. The man simply leaned against the wall, watching Dean flush scarlet and close whatever he’d opened, before Sonny finally said, “You know, breaking into things that don’t belong to you ain’t gonna’ help you take care of your brother. Working will.”

Dean stared at him until the man stepped closer. “You can look wherever you want. But I might be able to help you find what you’re looking for.”

Sonny looked like a nice man. His face was always stern, set in place like he knew exactly what he wanted. But there was a softness to his eyes that Dean couldn’t pinpoint the reason for. The man was tall and lean, gentle in his approach to Dean and the other boys, and he was never cruel. Sonny was simply firm. 

Dean couldn’t wrap his head around it. All he knew was that this man couldn’t have known anything about the Supernatural, and if that was the case, it was unlikely his father ever shared his things with his son. 

So Dean kept his mouth shut and waited for Sonny to leave, which the man always did. 

During the first week, Dean found nothing. But he didn’t have time.

Every night Dean would take a ‘shower.’ That’s what he told the other boys, and he always made sure to go after all the other boys had finished so they wouldn’t get mad at him for taking so long. Instead of showering, he ran the bath and soaked in it for as long as he could without drawing attention to himself. He’d learned that he had an hour before people would start banging on the door, and two before someone called for Sonny. 

It wasn’t enough time to get all the water he needed, but Dean found a way to schedule enough ‘bathroom breaks’ throughout the day, every day, to keep him on the edge of sanity and humanity.

Even then, it wasn’t enough, and Dean could feel it clawing just under his skin. He needed nine hours at least, and he didn’t have enough time to get it. It was only a matter of time until he’d have to give in and lock himself away. The only question was how.

In the end, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t given an option.

He’d survived through the first half of the second week. He was avoiding liquid at all costs, skin tingling whenever water entered the room like his body could sense its presence. 

There was one boy at the home named James. He was beautiful for sixteen, and more often than not, Dean would find himself completely distracted by his pale skin and dark hair. He didn’t dare talk to the boy, mostly because of his need to maintain a cover, but he also had his secret to worry about. He couldn’t afford making any attachments, and certainly not when he was riding the line between humanity and creature.

But sometimes, he would watch the other boy, daydreaming, watching the way he interacted with the other boys and Sonny. It was enough to control his urges to change, enough to distract him from his crushing need for water.

Dean should have known better. 

Fights weren’t uncommon at the Home, but it was the first one to take place at the dinner table since Dean had arrived. Dean had been watching James talk in hushed whispers with another boy, occasionally glancing at Dean and smirking. Dean looked away and blushed, but his eye caught movement before he could look away entirely.

Phillip, a fourteen year old brat who better belonged in juvi, grabbed his glass and threw it at Sonny’s head. Dean reacted on instinct.

“Dean!” Sonny shouted, but it was too late to do anything. Dean shoved Sonny out of his chair as the glass shattered against Dean’s shoulder. Water flew everywhere, and before Dean knew it scales were erupting across his back and legs as the boys around the table stood and started screaming at each other. 

Dean caught sight of James grabbing Phillip with two other boys, and Sonny was climbing to his feet to check on Dean, but the change was rapidly overtaking him. 

Dean lunged away and dashed up the stairs. The door to the bathroom locked safely behind him, Dean barely managed to turn on the bath faucet and drop his body inside. His clothes ripped to pieces, but Dean didn’t care. He was safe in the tub, and nobody had seen his scales. At least, he certainly hoped not.

He sighed as the water slowly slid up over his body. The water felt like a relief to his dried and cracking skin. He needed this. He needed to stay in the tub as long as he could, without interruption. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to become human again on his own--not before his body was finished absorbing. 

A knock at the door startled him. Dean clenched the edge of the tub anxiously, eyes wary as he watched shadows move at the base of the door.

“Dean?” It was Sonny. He sounded worried. “Are you alright? Let me in.”

Dean glanced at his tail. The water splashed across the floor as his tail tried to make room. Dean cursed and shook his head. “I can’t,” he called back, hoping to God Sonny would leave him alone this time. “Go away!”

“Dean, open the door. You could be hurt.”

“I’m not!” Dean shouted back. He looked at his shoulder and frowned. Blood covered his white t-shirt, spreading down his arm from his shoulder.  _ Shit _ . He tore off his shirt and wrapped it around his arm carefully, hissing at the sting as small glass shards pushed deeper into his skin. 

“Dean, if you don’t open the door, I will.”

_ Double shit _ . Dean glanced around the room. There was nothing to defend himself with. If he concentrated, the only other area of water was in the kitchen. There were no lakes or ponds nearby, and Dean wasn’t about to expose himself to a bunch of  _ teenagers _ . He had a job to do, and being discovered now could bring the  _ real _ police--something his family didn’t need. They’d been lucky they knew a hunting deputy around these parts. Otherwise, this entire job would’ve been hell. 

Not that Dean wasn’t in hell already. 

Dean was thrown from his thoughts as the doorknob started turning. Dean cursed and grabbed the edges of the tub. There was nothing else for it. He had to run, somehow. He had to get in contact with John and Sam; it was the only way. 

“Stay out!” Dean shouted. He closed his eyes and focused on his energy, summoning as much of his remaining power as he could. There was barely enough, but if he focused enough he could--

The door slammed open. Dean jumped in shock and fell back into the water, horrified as it splashed everywhere. His eyes locked with Sonny’s, and suddenly, Dean knew everything.

Sonny stared at him, slack jawed, but also… barely surprised. Dean watched as Sonny quickly spun around and slammed the door closed behind him, heaving a sigh, and then turning back to face him. 

“So,” Sonny murmured. “Has this been happening long?”

Dean sank in relief.

**Author's Note:**

> me: lovefromdean.tumblr.com
> 
> my beta: cains-mane.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please comment if you have some free time :)


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